


Left Behind

by smallzita



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fake AH Crew, I'm an AWFUL person, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:50:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallzita/pseuds/smallzita
Summary: The Fake AH Crew was Jeremy's family, and he would do whatever he had to keep them safe, even if that meant sacrificing his own happiness for them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look! I actually posted this instead of letting it sit on my draft for a million year with all my other fics I wrote but never posted!
> 
> In all seriousness this is the first fic I've posted since my Harry Potter phase so if you can please send me some feedback and tell me what you all think. <3

Jeremy's insecurities never really went away after joining the Fake AH Crew, in fact some could say they got worse now that failing his job meant not only his ass getting hurt but this whole group of extremely talented and wonderful criminals he had looked up to for a long time would be in danger as well was terrifying, not to mention how high up the stakes were now because how could he even compare to them? He was just a kid from Boston who picked way too many fights and had nothing left to lose and somehow got hired by the Kings of Los Santos. In the great scheme of things the Fakes were gods and he was just a little fly, worthless, expendable. Most nights he wondered why they kept him around in the first place.

It wasn’t in one of those nights when Randall found him, in fact so far he had been having a pretty great night. The Crew had done a heist, an amazing jaw dropping heist which thanks to some miracle had worked perfectly and provided a lot of money and now the six of them were celebrating in a bar, Gavins arm was around his shoulders and his lips were so close to his face that made the younger man's heart skip a beat while Michael yelled at the both of them in the fond way only he knew how to do and Geoff and Jack laughed their ass over something stupid, even Ryan was there, going back and forth from the pool table to the bar where the other Gents sat in order to talk and join on their shenanigans and the Jeremy felt good, he felt happy.

That is, of course, when he saw him.

It would be easy to miss Randall if you hadn't spent years of your life fearing him because he didn't look like much, just another forty something man with jet black hair slicked back, clothes way too formal and a cold stare of someone who has seen too much that is typical to see in a city like Los Santos. He smiles towards Jeremy, so phony, unreal and awfully familiar that makes his stomach turns, before downing the contents of his glass and leaving through the back door. Jeremy can't help the way he jumps after the man like a puppy after his owner.

“Lil Jay” Gavin's Voice calls, his slender fingers ghosting over his biceps and for a second he thinks he could stay here forever, he could live in the warmth of Gavins touch, the stare of Michaels eyes and between the crews laughter. “where are you going?”

“Bathroom” he lies and in any other situation they would have been able to see right through it but now they are all conveniently drunk enough not to see the truth so the blonde lets go of of his arm and he hurries out of the bar.

The night air was chilly, not cold like Bostons but still cold enough to bother his naked arms and bring with it the smell of garbage and pollution that fills the dirty streets and alleyways of Los Santos and for the split of a second he wondered if It was too late to run back in side, go on with his life like he hadn't seen anything but then he sees Randall again, sly smile on his face, silver gun in hand and three huge goons with black and Grey clothing standing behind him and Jeremy knows deep in his bones that he is truly fucked.

“Dooley!” He says, clapping his hands together in a weird form of greeting. “Long time no see, kid.”

Jeremy didn't talk, he couldn't speak even if he wanted, bile rising in his throat dangerously fast. In an attempt to avoid his eyes and not to show how afraid he was he stared at the man's suit, dark but still bit lighter than Geoff's although not enough to reach a full on grey. 

He immediately regretted the comparison because the man in front of Jeremy was not and would never be Geoff, because Geoff was a man who four years ago had seen a 22 year old half dead thrown outside an underground fight ring after getting beaten bloody and whose first instinct was to bring the kid home, nurture him back to health and offer him to join his little family. Randall was the piece of shit who saw a fourteen year old boy, hungry, tired and desperate to pay his mother's drug debt and whose immediate thought was to make him a little soldier to serve his gang over everything.

The thought of the two of them together made him sick.

“You’ve changed a lot, kid” the crime boss said, moving towards him like a kid coming to check on a toy he had lent to his neighbor and wanted to see if it was still intact. “Can’t say I’m pleased about that green hair but we can fix that, no problem.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Jeremy hissed between gritted teeth, the words that have been haunting his thoughts finally leaving his lips in an attempt to come off as menacing and doing a decent job, but not enough because Randall just laughs at him. 

“Oh Dooley you can't really think that you could leave your Crew behind in the blink of an eye no no no.”he says hand gripping his shoulder tightly and Jeremy can feel the man's gaze burning in the back of his skull, he tried to get away from the touch but as soon as he moved three guns were immediately aimed towards his head. “ There are consequences for that, which you will pay as soon as you come back to Boston with us.”

Now it's Jeremy's turn to laugh, it’s dry and a bit over the top but he feels like he will fall apart if he doesn't. “And why would i do that? You could have killed me a thousand times over since the bar but you didn’t which means you need me for something. My life is not at risk here.”

“You are right, I could have killed you in the bar, I could also have killed those idiots you are so fond of nowadays” Jeremys blood went cold, he tries to reach for his gun but Randall beats him to It, grabbing the handle and covering It with his own hands. He was lying, he had to be, no one could kill a Fake, they were the Kings of this city. The man must have guessed what Jeremy was thinking, because he spoke again, smirk apparent on his tone. “ Let's pretend my boys over there walk into that bar, Guns blazing, right now. Let's say your guys get Lucky and one of them survives. Do you think you could live with yourself knowing It is your fault? Could they live with you?” The last question is a whisper, and Jeremy has to screw his eyes shut to keep himself from showing any emotions. It doesn't work and soon his mind fills with pictures, of Geoff, his white shirt stained with crimson red, of Jack, her eyes glassy and lifeless, of Ryan, blood mixing with face paint, of Michael, choking on his own blood but still yelling, of Gavin, blood making his clothes rose gold, warn touch now cold as Ice and green eyes filled with terror.

Of his family, mangled and destroyed because of him.

“When do we leave?” Jeremy stutters out, the question leaving a bitter taste of disgust and Fear in his mouth. He didn't need to open his eyes to know Randall was smiling


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit longer and it focus more on the crew in general (this fic was originally jeremavin, can you tell? :P)
> 
> Sorry about the spelling mistakes on the last chapter, this one is a better( I hope)

While the tall buildings of Los Santos loomed over the car, Jeremy couldn't help but think how much he would miss the city, the mayhem, the chaos, the makeshift family he had found for himself. He wondered if he would ever come back here, if his crew would take him back if he did, if they were looking for him right now and what they would think when they don't find him. The thought make his heart drop and he dragged his gaze away from the window to the road ahead.

There is not a lot of traffic except for the black car ahead which belongs to Randall and his bodyguard, it's too late for the streets to be full and even if they were he wouldn't be able to see much as the two goons sitting in the front were so big they almost blocked the windshield with their bodies in a way that was almost comical if they weren't ready to bash his skull in any given moment, so in the end he starts picking at his bright orange pants, trying not to focus on how shitty everything is.

After about twenty minutes of absolute silence Jeremy's phone, currently on henchman #2’s hand, buzzed to life. He smile and turned towards Jeremy, a finger covering his lips and clicked on the speaker button and a british voice filled the car.

“Jay? Are you there?” Gavin asked and Jeremy felt like throwing up, 'please don't make me talk to him’ he begs internally 'don't make me lie to him, don't make me hurt Gavin’ but now #2 has set the phone down in order to grab Jeremy's purple and orange gun and point it against him “Me and Michael wanted to talk to you but you Just disap-”

“I can't do this anymore” Jeremy says and tears start to swell in his eyes but he is quick to blink them away. “Can't live like this.”

“Well thats bloody ominous” Gavin says but he can hear the edg on his voice, the way he knows something is wrong but hides it with humor. “What is going on?”

“I needed the money, i have enough now” Jeremy says and if his voice breaks he doesn't notice, distracted by the way Gavin suck in a breath. “I don't need you guys anymore”

The last bit hurts, it comes out choked and he coughs in the end of it to hide how he actually feels but Gavin's voice is what completely destroys him, broken and close to begging. The Golden Boy never begged before. “ Jeremy you don't mea-”

With that #2 turns off the phone and chucks it out of the window, watching to make sure it smashed against the asphalt before turning to Jeremy, a smirk on his face.

“Guess they won't be taking you back now.”

The punch hits the goons nose before Jeremy realizes what he is doing and the car swirls.

\---------------------------//---------------------------------  
There was something about seeing Gavin cry that broke Michael into pieces, but knowing what he was crying for was somehow even worse.

They found him outside the bar after he said he was going to look for Jeremy, eyes red, phone held tightly in his hand. He didn't hesitate in saying what had happened, what were Jeremy's exact words and Michael could see the Golden Boy facade taking over him, the way he detached himself from the situation and put someone else in it, like Ryan with his Vagabond mask but somehow worse and more sinister. It was always weird seeing his boyfriend mold out of his skin for work but seeing it as a coping mechanism for other situations was just heartbreaking, and honestly fuck Jeremy for making it happen.

Except not really because nothing of this really felt like Jeremy, the Jeremy he knew walked off bullet wounds not to worry the others, the Jeremys he knew beat a man beyond recognition for misgendering Jack and put a woman in the hospital after he caught her slipping something in Gavin's drink, the Jeremy he knew became the darkest shade of red after drunkenly making out with him after a heist and avoided eye contact with him for a week because he was daft enough not to realize how much the entire crew was just waiting for him to make the first move.

But truth be told, none of them really knew the younger men, at least not like they knew each other. There was no old childhood connection like Jack and Geoff had, nor an old bond of trust like Gavins and Michaels, much less the friendship built from the hatred of a common target like Geoff's and Ryan's relationship. No, Jeremy was just a kid Geoff brought home one day who happened to know his way around a gun and punched to kill, they knew nothing about him except what he told them and that wasn't much, three years was not nearly enough to fully know someone in this business.

Still he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off and he tried his best to express so to the crew a couple days after Jeremy left.

“He wouldn't just disappear like that!” He had shouted but saw it falling on deaf ears when glossing over his partners, Geoff was still a bit drunk from the night before like he had been most of last week, Ryan was again in full Vagabond getup, the skull mask staring at him emotionless, Jack looked at him with pity, like he was a kid who still hadn't understand that his goldfish had died. Only Gavin looked at him straight, eyes still cold and empty from the persona he wore to hide but they were so attentive it almost seemed like he could see the words in the air in front of him. They didn't talk much since the bar, Gavin mostly just waved Michael off or gave him short answer to his question but the could see the man was hurting. They all were. “Jeremy fucking trusts us, what if he is trouble and we are letting him die because we are too fucking butthurt to help?”

“Michael” Jack calls, her voice is soft and homely but pleading, he could never get angry with Jack, not really but he was honestly done with the pity look she was giving him “Jeremy is a tough dude, if something was wrong do you really think he wouldn't have told us? If he was unhappy here” there was a small break in her voice and the anger inside Michael deflated a little, sometimes he forgot how much all of this was taking a toll on the crew as a whole, they might be criminals but that didn't stop them from being a family, or at least they thought it didn't. ”I don't want to make him stay.”

“Fine, but i still want some answers” he grunted, still disbelieving and from the corner of his eye he saw Gavin nod in agreement, they both needed this and Jack could see it, she sighed and hung her head, she seemed ready to disagree but Michael continued “And if you guys won't help, we will do this ourselves.”

All the three Gents snapped their head towards Michael, Geoff seemed to sober up immediately and started to go on at how careless that was, Ryan ripped the plastic skull mask so fast he thought it would rip in half and began scolding at the two and Jack stayed quiet, mouth shut in a thin line that mixed concern and understanding and Michael almost felt bad for making such a threat but it was the truth, he needed to know if Jeremy was okay as much as Gavin needed to know why, and nothing could stop them from doing that.

“Fine” says Geoff after a while, taking the whole room by surprise and bringing the conversation to a hard stop. Michael and Gavin share a triumphant look while the man spoke. “But if he doesn't want to come back, if he wants to start a new, fucking let him. He’s been through too much for you assholes to drag him back to this life.”

“Unless everything he told us about himself was a lie.” Ryan mumbled under his breath, attempting to put the mask back in its previous position and Michael snarls at him, trying to ignore the dark circles under the Gents eyes. He knew Ryan didn't have a good past regarding crews, or a good past at all, that's why the Vagabond existed in the first place, an altar ego created to scare others and keep the ones who wanted to hurt him at bay. But they didn't need a vicious killer right now, they needed Ryan, Jeremy's Battle Buddy, the first one of them that had brought up months back the possibility of adding Jeremy into their relationship. 

“It wasn't” It was Gavin who said it, there wasn't any venom in his voice but a slight tremble to it like he was trying to reassure himself of what he was saying.”Jeremy wouldn't lie to us.” Michael put a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and Gavin gave him a shy smile. 

Soon, they would be okay again.

\--------------------------//------------------------  
Except nothing ever was that easy, and “soon” became a week, then two, then a month went by and they had nothing. Michael was getting fucking sick of it.

The truth was that for situations like these Michael was basically useless, he was the demolition guy, there was no finesse or patience or a whole lot of precision in what he did. He couldn't operate a computer like Gavin did, making the keys sing what he wanted to know, and he couldn't master the calmness Jack showed even when she was interrogating some jerk who refused to answer her questions, he couldn't recreate the patterns carved in flesh that Ryan's knifes made to whoever dared lie to them or the superiority air Geoff had to him whenever he walked into a room, the way the air stilled when he talked and the people crumbled when he laughed. No, he was just Michael, the demolition guy, the easiest to piss off and the one that demonstrated what a tool this was taking on all of them.

He began hanging around bars more, everyone was busy and he didn't want to get in their way so it was really for the best, avoiding the ones in their own territory because It reminded him of times less fucked up. The bar fights came soon after, he always had enjoyed those and they made him feel alive so he knew what to do when they broke around. It wasn't as fun without Gavin instigating them and Jeremy to fight alongside him but they still made his blood pump and if they didn't he at least already had enough alcohol in him to pretend they did. It was a flawless concept in his books.

But sometimes things didn't go as planned, sometimes people were stronger than him and sometimes people had friends. And sometimes people weren't actually the drunkards they pretended to be but trained thugs decided to hurt Michael and the Fakes in exchange of a paycheck from a random crew of morons.

And that's how Michael founds himself in his current situation, arms and legs strapped tightly to a cool metal chair, bag thrown over his head, obscuring his vision from the room he was in, and splitting headache drilling into his skull. Fucking great, like he didn't have enough shit going on already now he also has to find a way out of whatever hellhole he was in. Fan-fucking-tastic.

His thoughts are interrupted as a heavy door was held open somewhere in the room and then slammed back closed again with such strength and anger that he could almost feel the ground shake bellow him. Fuck, if the person was this mad about Michael just existing in the same room as them this could mean the jerkweed had some particular grudge against him which meant this would be way more painful for him than he wanted it to be.

There is was some shuffling around the room, the sound of objects being moved but no talking whatsoever came from his captor, Michael knew it was a way of pushing him into talking, had seen Ryan doing it before but since he didn't expect to be playing damsel in distress for much longer he decided to give in to the boredom.

“Listen here you motherfucker, I don't know what you’re playing at but-” There is a small gasp, a bag of emotions hidden in one sound, sadness, anger and fear mixed in one and Michael's blood froze in his veins. Oh no, he knew who that voice came from.

The bag was pulled away from his face and the man closed his eyes for a second in order to not be blinded by the sudden light and his stomach filled with dread for what, who, he would find when he opened them again.

“You know” he said, summoning his tough act to open his eyes and stare to the sad brown eyes that tried to squirm away from his gaze. Like that would make a difference and change the situation the two former friends found themselves in. The anger in his voice becoming more genuine by the second. “Torturer was never a good look on you, Jeremy.”

The heavy silence in the room only made his blood boil more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry? Next chapter is about twice the size of this one
> 
> Also any feedback is greatly appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I should probably start by saying that yes the number of chapters has gone to unknown because I realized four chapters probably wouldn't cut it and while I do think it will only be one chapter more than expected I don't want to make any promises.
> 
> Also my classes are back so if I do take longer to upload please know that I'm doing my best and this fic is still a very big first for me so this is all very new but school still comes first. Thank you <3

When Jeremy moved to Los Santos he made a promise to himself: the only way he was going to leave this city was in a bodybag. 

Back then the idea felt perfectly reasonable to him, he needed somewhere safe to hide against Randall and his crew and while Los Santos was definitely not safe, it was probably the best hiding spot someone like him could ever wish for. He knew he should keep running, he knew that Randall didn't take kindly to betrayal but he was tired and here he could just restart, live the life of a person without a name or face that would do someone's dirty work for a few dollars without asking questions, if someone ever found him a clean shot to his own head would do the trick. That was what he expected to be and, ultimately, that was what he got. 

Until he meet The Fake AH Crew.

It was after Jeremy found a permanent gig, one of the guys who had hired him as a gun beforehand was impressed by the young man and decided to shine a light on an underground fighting ring a bit closer to the richer part of Los Santos. He had never been there before, if he was totally honest that neighborhood scared him more than the dark and dirty alleyways he had been sleeping in but he couldn't say no to money so he joined. He doesn't remember much from those days, probably because of how many blows to the head he got over time but he does remember receiving his first payment, the crowd still cheering after he knocked one of the usual contestants, a man almost two feet taller than him, out cold as the leader of the ring(who later on became his sponsor) handed him more money than he knew what to do with. In the end of the night after renting a hotel room and sleeping in a proper bed for the first time in two years, Jeremy decided he could get used to the money.

He also remembers the first time he saw Geoff, suit on, face blank as he watched Jeremy fight someone he no longer remembers. Jeremy didn't know who he was until afterwards, when his sponsor told him to keep his head down around the other man.

“You don't want to stand out for Ramsey, kid” he had said before showing Geoff a fake smile Jeremy would never know how to recreate. “If that man can put a muzzle on the Vagabond, he can destroy someone like you with a single word.”

Jeremy wasn't stupid, he had heard of Ramsey before, he lived in Los Santos too long to not know the man who ruled it with an iron fist together with his crew of madman's. He, like most people with common sense in this city, was terrified of the older man and even more so of the long looks he gave Jeremy after the fight was won but he was also curious. The rumors around town about the crews origins were peculiar at best and utterly ridiculous at worst. Some even claimed they were immortals, kings of the land long buried under the city who couldn't let go of their power, others thought they were gods who decided to make Los Santos their playground to torment those who were unholy. And while all that was definitely not true, one thing was always clear: The Fake AH Crew were a force to be reckoned with and Jeremy was more than happy to stay as far away from them as he could.

But the universe didn't approve of his plans and not long after that first night did Jeremy have his first conversation with the Kingpin himself.

It was the beginning of winter, he knew that because snow was raining down on him gently, decorating this hair and making the open cut on his forehead given to him in the night's fight sting slightly but he paid it no mind, glad to be heading home and off the cold air when a voice called for him.

“You got a light?” Jeremy spun on his heels to find who had called him and froze in place, in front of him Geoff Ramsey stood, supported lazily against a build, a cigarette between his lips, he would probably look like a normal man if It wasn't for the sharp suit he wore and the masked mercenary he knew to be the Vagabond that stood behind him like a looming shadow. Jeremy swallowed hard, and nodded fearfully, fishing an old lighter from his back pocket. It used to belong to some grandfather or great uncle his father had but he didn't know anymore, only caring about the fact that It reminded him a family he never really had. With shaking hands he lighted the crime boss cigarette and quickly stepped away, feeling the Vagabond stare at his every move. After taking a big puff the man spoke again. “How old are you, kid?”

“T-twenty two?” He said,not really sure. Birthdays never meant a whole lot to him, even back in Boston so when he moved to Los Santos he had forgotten about them altogether. Ramsey quirked an eyebrow and Jeremy cleared his throat and tried again. “Twenty two, sir.”

“And what kind of dumbass name is Rimmy Tim?” The older man asked, smile on his lips. Jeremy couldn't help but smile back, unfazed by the way the Mad Mercenary seemed to roll his eyes at them.

The man was clearly referring to the name Jeremy was known for in the ring. It was stupid and stolen from his Borderlands character, but he couldn't help but get attached to it over the years. Sometimes humor was all that he had left. “Isn't it self explanatory?”

The laughter Ramsey gave echoed through the city and a bit of pride flared inside of Jeremy, especially when he catched the Vagabond chuckling slightly as well. “You are alright, Rimmy,” the suited man wiped an imaginary tear away, reaching inside his tuxedo and coming out with a business card. “if you ever get tired of getting yelled by a bunch of drunkards give me a call.”

Jeremy froze once again, slowly he reached for the card and flipped in his hand seeing the crews green logo stamped on an black background and a small phone number under it stare back at him. Truth be told being an illegal fighter was the best endgame he allowed himself to hope for in a city like this, the payment was not half bad, even if his spendings were constantly monitored by his sponsor, he had a roof over his head, even if that was only a dorm he had to share with different fighters filled with pent up anger and resentment for fights lost and sure sometimes it felt like he had escaped one cage to just fall into another one but that was life and maybe Jeremy wasn't really living but he was surviving and until now he had convinced himself that was enough.

But now the Kingpin of all Los Santos stood in front of him, card in hand and job proposal in his lips and in theory that was ideal, he worked in crews his entire life, he knew what to do and how they function, deep in his bones Jeremy knew that was where he belonged. But then, why were his hands shaking even more now? Why did his legs were aching with the need to run? 

Why did he look into Ramsey's blue eyes and see Randall's dark gray ones instead?

“I don't do crews” Ramsey's lighthearted expression fell, changing to confusion and behind him the Vagabond straighten his back. Jeremy balled his hands into fists and put them inside his pockets to hide how much they were shaking, wrinkling the card in his hand as he did so, fuck, he shouldn't have said that, nobody said no to the Kingpin and lived. He was going to die because he was too much of a dumbass to-

Except Ramsey shrugged, his expression back to unfazed and gave a long puff out of his cigarette “You look like a good kid, Tim. If you ever reconsider you know who to call.”

And just like that he walked away, the Mad Mercenary not even sparing him a glance as he followed. Before Jeremy knew it they were gone and he was left alone, mouth agape and hands still shaking in his pockets.

He ended up running back to the dormitory, locking every door and window in his way before collapsing on his bunk. He didn't sleep that night, or the night after that, waiting for an attack that never came and trying to ignore the way he ached for something else.

In the months that followed he tried to forget, tried to get back to normal, buried himself in fights he knew he couldn't win just to feel something other than the empty Ramsey had found inside his chest. He didn't think about the consequences of what he was doing until his sponsor kicked him out, adding a few wounds himself to Jeremy's scarred body before dumping him in an alleyway in the middle of nowhere with nothing. At the time, he accepted the unconsciousness as a friend and with his last clear thought, he hoped never to wake up.

But he did. Jeremy was welcomed back to reality by a warm room, a soft bed and a kind smile, all unknown to him. A woman with fiery red hair instructed him to lay back and checked for his temperature. They had found him bleeding out on a street corner she said, he had had a cold but didn't have to stay if he didn't want to she explained, and that was when Ramsey walked in, no suit, no charm, just a cat shirt and a pair of old sweatpants that made him look like he had just woken up. He landed a kiss on the woman's forehead, who Jeremy deduced to be Pattillo, his second in command before sitting in a chair by the bed. He opened his mouth to say something but Jeremy beat him to it.

“You still hiring?” He asked, faux innocence in his tone only slightly ruined by the way his voice came out raspy and broken. For a second the room was silent and then Pattillo barked out a laugh.

“Told you the kid was alright.” She said placing a hand Ramsey’s shoulder. “ Asshole will fit right in.”

“I had a speech prepared!” The crime lord sputtered, eyes wide.” I was gonna tell him about the benefits and tell him that even if he said no the crew could still provide him with shelter if he wanted.” Pattillo rolled her eyes behind Ramsey when his voice broke mid sentence and Jeremy had to suppress a laugh “I mean, yeah welcome on board or whatever but fuck .”

“Yeah yeah, who cares, Geoff.” Pattillo waved her hand nonchalantly, opening the rooms door and gesturing for Ramsey,Geoff, to get out. “Let the kid rest, will figure out more later and you,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger in Jeremy's direction and Jeremy stopped smiling on cue, fear filling him as this 6 foot something gigant stared down at him. “do not leave this bed until Steffie gives you the final okay, if you do, she will found you and absolutely destroy you.” 

And with that they both left the room, and Jeremy's career as part of the Fake AH Crew begun.

It was different than anything he had ever experienced before, with them he had a home, a family. He had Geoff who joked around about his height and age but comforted Jeremy when he had panic attacks before upcoming heist, he had Jack who rolled her eyes and pretended not to care when he did something stupid and reckless but made sure he ate three hot meals a day for the first few months after him joining because she knew he wouldn't otherwise, he had Ryan, who made threats and could kill without a second thought but laughed at Jeremy's stupid jokes and called him his Battle Buddy with pride. He had Michael who cussed up a storm and blew up buildings when he got bored but who obliterated anyone who dared look at the younger man the wrong way and he had Gavin, who sometimes hid behind a mask thicker than Ryan's and started fights just to see the rest of the crew jumping in for the rescue but made sure Jeremy always knew he was one of them. All of them made Jeremy feel like he mattered for the first time in years and for that and more he owed them his life.

He thought about that while being dragged out of the car wreck he had caused, failing to kill a single person in his car but giving himself a couple of ugly bruises and making the goons and Randall pretty unhappy.

He thought about the fact he had lost his family all over again and would probably never see them again as they pulled him out of his seat and drove him, hands cuffed behind his back and body hurting as all hell, to a building close to the outskirts of Los Santos where a small part of Randall's gang dealt with their business. It didn't really surprise Jeremy that the man wanted a piece of this city too but he didn't say anything, doesnt want his words and cockyness to somehow affect his crew and have them pay for his mistakes. They at least deserve that from him.

But a while later, when the young man was thrown into a bare, windowless room, handcuffs still digging painfully into his wrists and told the crime boss will not leave Los Santos until Jeremy learns some respect and how to pull his own weight is when It hits him, that while he is going to stay in the city he has come to love he will be doing that as Far away as possible from the people who make living in it a good thing. And he thinks that maybe that was the worst part of It all. 

That changes the minute he recognises Michael's voice in the body of the man he is instructed to torture and sees Michaels eyes fill with betrayal and anger, emotions he hoped the older man would never direct towards him.

He knew something bad was coming, it would have been stupid not to expect things to go badly somehow because that was how Randall worked, the crime boss crushed people and destroyed property for fun and Jeremy had always been his favorite target but he thought he would have to endure a few more months of needing constant babysitting and being treated like absolute trash before something happened in his fucked up life. 

But now Michael was in front of him, hate filled eyes boring holes into Jeremy's skull and he needed to figure out what to do fast.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Michael barks at him, and just like that Jeremy is brought back into reality to the issue at hand. He does a quick scan of the room they are in, it’s like most the other rooms in the building, concrete walls, a heavy metal door that had been locked behind him and and big windows that have long been boarded up, which meant a small light dangling from the ceiling did a poor job of keeping the space lit and it was ventilated by a small shaft on the back wall, way too small for a human to go through. The only pieces of furniture was the chair his former crewmate was bound and a rather large wooden table covered with a great collection of scalpels, lighters, tasers and other various torture devices. Thankfully Jeremy couldn't spot any cameras, so at least they weren't being monitored. “Fucking say something, Jeremy!”

He lets out a shaky breath, and fixes his eyes on the man. Someone had ridden him of his signature jacket, allowing Jeremy to see the others pale arms, bruises and cuts covered most of them, some were old and fainted but most seemed new and uncared for. He realised that he probably didn't look much better but that didn't stop him from worrying. Did the crew pull some sort of job recently? Probably not, If that was the case he would be at a secret safe house on Steffies care so It was more likely he had been joining bar fights with Gavin, they were a must in all Lads night outs and Jeremy's stomach sunk, realizing how fast It took for them to get over him but all the sorrow inside of him couldn't have prepared him for the one in Michael's eyes and Jeremy couldn't think of anything else to say except “I’m going to get you out of here” he tries to put more confidence in his voice than he actually feels and for a millisecond Michaels expression changes into something Jeremy can't quite recognize before going back to anger, and while it hurts to meet the other's eyes Jeremy knows he deserve every last bit of hate flaring from them.”I’m going to make things right.”

“What happened to you?” Michael asks, his voice cold and accusing when the younger man steps in closer to the chair he is bound in “you used to be one of the most feared men in Los Santos and you gave It all away.” Jeremy feels like throwing up, this is all too much, he needs to save Michael, needs to find a way to break him away from his cuffs and walk him safely across the building loaded with crewman's but his mind is blank and all he can focus on is the older man's voice.

“I didn't have a choice” it's a whisper, barely audible so he clears his throat and says it again but louder. Michael scoffs, unkind and disbelieving and Jeremy wishes he could tell him everything but his words are stuck in his throat “I’m so sorry.”

“Bullshit!” Michael screams and Jeremy flinches hard “You had us! You had your family and we fucking trusted you! Do you even know what you did to Geoff? To Gavin? To all of us? Or was that your fucking plan all along? Destroy the Fakes from the inside out huh?”

“No!” Jeremy replied horrified, feeling tears prickle in the corner of his eyes and turning away from Michael so the bound man wouldn't see him blinking them away. He should be agreeing, should be making sure the crew never comes for him ever again but he can't stand the thought of them hating him even more than they already do. “I never meant for this to happen, i swea-”

“Fucking prove it then!” Michael cuts him, there is a certain desperation in his voice, as if he wants nothing more than to be wrong about this entire situation. “Get me out of here!”

Jeremy turns back to Michael and stares into his eyes almost pleading because he can't, he doesn't know what Randall wants with him and breaking him free could mean even more harm to the man and the rest of the Fakes. He is met with curious eyes, anger slowly dissipating from them before coming back twice as strong.

“Someone is threatening you.” Michael says knowing, and Jeremy opens his mouth to say something, to make up a story that will dodge the older mans miles long protective streak but no sounds leaves him and Michael continuous, voice rising in anger and realisation. “What do they want?”

A laughter leaves Jeremy's lips, empty, hollow and utterly broken but it is the only way to mask the sob trying to break free from inside of him. “There is no bargaining out of this one, pal”

“Fuck you, of course there is!” there is an edge to Michael's voice, a tone Jeremy had only heard from him once, almost a year ago after a heist gone wrong. A brown messenger bag laid on the kitchen counter filled to the brim with fifty thousand dollars in cash but no one paid it no mind, eyes focusing only the tv screen where Ryan, Jack, Michael and Jeremy watched as the news anchor showed pictures of one of their safehouses, the one Geoff and Gavin were supposed to be at the moment, blown to bits, their getaway car still burning in the front. No one talked and no one moved as they waited for something to happened, any kind of news that showed where their two crewmates were or whether they were alive or not but that didn't happen, the news quickly changing to some celebrity bullshit no one gave a shit about and they were left with radio silence again. In the days that followed Jeremy watched as Jack worked herself to the bone to find her boys, he listened through the walls of his room as Ryan walked around the house in the dead of night, not able to find comfort in his sleep, just nightmares that woke him screaming, he held Michael as grief washed over him in the form of self destructive rage and cleaned his bloody knuckles despiste the others protests. Of course soon after all that Team B managed to find Plan Gs location and bring the two of them home safely but Jeremy would never be able to forget the raw fear and desperation that filled his heroes eyes back then, such emotions that were mimicked in Michael's expression right now. “What the fuck do the-”

Screams erupted from somewhere below them, mixing with gunshots loud enough to make the ground shake. The two of them shared a look as the familiar noise filled their ears, bringing with it a wave of emotions. For a second the two remained there, paralyzed in wait, no words said because they both knew exactly what that mayhem meant.

The cavalry had arrived, and they were fucking pissed.

The sound of the heavy metal door unlocking a few feet near them made Jeremy snap out of his frozen state and spring into action. He didn't know what the fuck Randall wanted with Michael but like hell he'd let him go through with it, no one hurt his crew, even If they no longer wanted him.

He grabbed a scalpel from the table, not exactly deadly against the layers of body armour that the guards were wearing but Jeremy wasn't trusted with an actual weapon so It had to do, and lunged towards the door as it opened. The women that got in barely manage to take a look inside before Jeremy was sticking the scalpel deep into her left eye, she fell to her knees with a guttural scream as blood poured down her face. The man didn't bother to get the surgical knife out of her skull, grabbing the gun still in her holster (what an amatuer) and firing at her chest in one swift motion.

“There’re more fuckers coming!” Michael yelled and Jeremy snapped his head towards the door where two more henchmen ran in, guns in hand. He shot twice at the first one, missing the first shot by an inch but hitting the second bullet in the middle of his forehead, his body immediately falling like a sack of bricks. The second didn't waver by the death of his friend, shooting wildly into the room, Jeremy attempted to run and take cover behind the tablet when pain exploded from his calf and send him stumbling into the floor with a cry of pain. The man began walking towards him but then Michael started yelling again, turning his attention away. “GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU CUNT OR IMMA SLIT YOUR FAT ASS THROAT YOU MOTHERFU-”

The sound of a blunt object meeting flesh and bone filled the room, on the corner of his eyes Jeremy saw Michael slump into the chair unconscious. The hot pain in Jeremy's leg, forgotten as it was replaced by throbbing rage. Before the other man could even react Jeremy was charging at him, gun thrown aside and fists at ready to cause as much damage as possible. The man barely had time to look away from the passed out man before Jeremy was body slamming him into the concrete, knocking the air out of both of them. The henchman tried bringing his gun towards the younger man's general direction but Jeremy was faster, grabbing the man's hair and slamming his head back down on the floor multiple times until he felt blood and brain matter staining his hand.

A tired sigh left his lips as he crawled away from the body and towards Michael's, his movements were slow and sloppy as pain and exhaustion hit him with full force but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He wasn't sure why but he needed to be close to Michael, needed to make sure he was okay and alive and needed him to know that Jeremy was sorry, that he never wanted this to happen.

He didn't notice the hurried footsteps getting closer to them, didn't listen when a family voice yelled for Michael, he had his back turned when another person stood on the doorway, gun aimed and ready to shoot whoever was close to their missing crewman but he sure as hell felt the bullet that hit him, piercing through his stomach and bringing white hot pain with it.

Jeremy tumbled to the ground, mind foggy and hazy. He could feel his body giving up on him, his thoughts slowly dissipating as unconsciousness took their place and when Death finally looked down on him, with its black skull and piercing blue eyes, Jeremy let the darkness consume him whole without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "oh zita why is steffie the crew medic" bc I love her and I am filled with spite.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry that the new chapter will probably take just as long. Also Geoff drinks in this fic because it was a little to late to change that but he won't drink in my next fics or at least I'll try my hardest to avoid to write him drinking.

Geoff made a tradition out of being the last person to wake up in the penthouse, there was no particular reason for it except for his overall hatred of mornings but it was safe to assume that if the Kingpin was up before 11 am either a big heist was near or something really bad was happening.

Something really fucking bad was happening.

There was no denying it, no point in doing so, it was as clear as day. Jeremy had betrayed them, left them without so much as a goodbye and then reappeared about two months later next to an unconscious and bound Michael after the latter had disappeared while looking for him and Geoff as the leader of their crew and Michael's boyfriend had figure out what the fuck to do about it and that was enough to ruin anybodys sleep.

He untangled himself from his sheets and shrugged off the last night's clothes he had not cared about taking off to bed, changing in a pair of pyjamas while reminiscing the events from before he dozed off. They took Jeremy and Michael to their perspective rooms and called Steffie and Caleb, an old employee of them who decided to leave the criminal business a few years back but thankfully still lived a short walking distance from their apartment in case they needed an extra medic, to check on them and while Jack had done her best to stop Jeremy's bleeding, Ryan's bullet went clear through his stomach and he already had another bullet wound in his leg so the lad was losing a lot of blood fast and they needed every help they could get, meanwhile Michael was unconscious, blood slowly making its way down his auburn curls and rope burns adorning his pale wrists. The rest of the night was a blur, Gavin had left to stay with Michael in his room, Ryan went for a shower, completely aware of the fact that Jeremy's blood was still is his hands and clothes from when he had tried to stop the bleeding himself and proceeded to disappear for the rest of the night and then, right as he thought things couldn't get worse, he and Jack fought.

“I shouldn't have invited him to join the crew.” Geoff had muttered, grabbing a glass of whiskey in the kitchen, he was tired and now he knew he didn't really mean it but fuck this was all too much. “Should have known better after what happened to-”

“Don't you fucking dare.” Jack said, jabbing a finger in his face, she was rundown and her hair smelled like gunpowder. She looked fucking pissed “He is family, he stuck his neck out for us countless tim-”

“And then he took off without thinking twice!” He yelled back, slamming the glass down on the kitchen counter violently, Jack didn't waver and he didn't expected her to. “Then he almost got Michael fucking killed for what? Money? To send a message? We can't trust him anymore Jack!”

“You don't know if that's true!” She protested taking a step towards him.

“Then please tell me Jack.” Geoff retorted, a part of his voice cracked in a way that was too close to a sob for his liking. “What IS the truth?!”

“I DON'T KNOW” She snapped and suddenly Jack didn't look angry anymore, just utterly devastated. She sat on the countertop, and placed her head in her hands. Under her breath she whispered “I don't fucking know anything anymore apparently.”

Geoff's heart sunk, energy from before deflating.He went over and sat next to her but before he could reach out to her, Jack stood again and sighed.

“I'm going to bed, Geoff” She announced, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow ok?”

Geoff nodded and watched as she left. He didn't see anyone else for the rest of the night. He must have slept at some point, passed out from exhaustion or just plain boredom eventually because now he was awake and grumpy and alone. 

The penthouse was unusually quiet as he walked down the long hallway passing the doors to each of their rooms. While they did usually shared the master bedroom, which had been redesigned to fit 5 people, each one of them had their own room in case they needed some privacy or were overwhelmed. Jack's room was the closest to the master room and he didn't need to try the door to know it was locked so he moved on to Ryan's which was left wide open and the room appeared to be completely empty and untouched, Geoff let out a sigh. It wasn't uncommon for Ryan to disappear every once in awhile, especially when the tension was high on the penthouse but he hoped that his boyfriend would return soon, Geoff didn't want him, or any of them, to be alone on times like these. Gavin's room was left similar as to Ryan's but Geoff barely got time to worry as Michael's had it's door slightly ajar and from where he was Geoff could see the lad asleep, a big white bandage covering part of his head and some splattered on his arms, Gavin laid down next to him, arms wrapped around his boy and his head rested on the red haired man's chest, he wasn't sure if the blonde was really asleep or just pretending to be but nevertheless he let the two rest and moved on towards the last room in his path.

Jeremy's.

Geoff hesitated for a second, realizing he hadn't entered the room since Jeremy left, pretending to be busy with other matters as to avoid actually seeing the younger lad. He let out a shaky breath before pushing the door slightly and stepping in, giving a startle cry as he did so.

“Jesus fucking christ Ryan, warn a guy!” He exclaimed, clutching at his chest to try and get his heartbeat back to normal. Ryan sat next to Jeremy's bedside, Vagabond mask still on despite the fact that he now wore a baggy t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants. He barely spared Geoff a glance despite the older man's scare tho, too focused on Jeremy's unmoving body lying in front of him. 

He wasn't dead, a black monitor on his bedside table placed next to a bunch of other medical equipment Geoff knew nothing about beeped lazily as a way of showing them that his heart was still beating inside him despite the paleness of his body and that his breathing was stable despite the fact that his chest nearly didn't rose enough to fill his lungs. Geoff's eyes lingered towards the recent discolored bruises that marked various spots of his body (were they from their last heist? Why weren't they gone yet?) before stopping at the white bandages that covered part of his stomach. He felt a hard pull at his heartstrings but ignored it, he was the leader of this city, a feared men who could go soft over one wounded men, especially one who could be a liability to his crew.

“Did you spend the whole night here?” He questioned, finally tearing his gaze away from Jeremy in order to look to Ryan who still hadn't moved. After no response came, Geoff tried a different approach. “Y'know, you are going to give him a heart attack if you are still wearing that fucking mask when he wakes up.”

“If.” It's Ryan's response, voice almost booming in the quiet room even if it was slightly muffled by the mask. “If he wakes up.”

Geoff froze for a second, the thought that Jeremy might never wake up hadn't yet crossed his mind but now it was there he could feel it eating away at his brain like a worm. He rubbed his temples to try and make the possibility go away. “Just take that damn thing off, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed and ripped the mask of his face, throwing it into his own lap without care, his eyes were red and puffy and there were deep bags under his eyes. Geoff tried to remember the last time he had seen him without the black skull on since Jeremy left but his mind was blank. He should have noticed, should have seen the guilt eating his boyfriend from inside out but Geoff was so busy with his own that he forgot to pay attention to everyone else's. He couldn't possibly imagine how Ryan was feeling now.

For a few minutes the only noise that filled the room was the soft beeping and whirring from the medical equipment around them, Ryan's eyes went back towards Jeremy and Geoff watched his features, he doesn't know how long they stayed like that but eventually Geoff's phone went off and they both jumped at the sound. Geoff grabbed the device only to shove it back in his pocket with a tired look on his face as soon as he saw who it was, Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and he let out a long sigh.

“Matt and Trevor keep texting me for updates.” He explained, placing his head in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ryan tense up. “How do you explain this shit, y'know? I mean the three of them were so damn close since they joined the crew and I don't know how to tell that there is a possibility that Jeremy is not even on our side anymore, much less that he is hurt.” 

“I’m sorry-” Ryan started but Geoff raised a hand to stop him.

“Don't, this is not your fault.” Ryan let out a humourless huff at the statement and Geoff turned his full attention towards him again. “I mean it, you saw someone suspicious making their way towards one of us and you shot them, we all would have done the same, fuck, we've all done the same! There was no way you could have known.”

That last part was true, Jeremy was practically unrecognizable when they found him. His hair, which was green when he disappeared, was now back to its original brown, only this time shorter and in an almost military cut, his clothes were black and slightly too big, making his body proportions change slightly, and nothing like the mess of colors and purples and oranges they were all used to seeing him with and his body was covered in bruises and marks. He was more similar to the self he was when the three of them first met than the one that they knew and Geoff would be lying if he didn't say that thought scared him, remembering how frightened and desperate he looked back then.

“Tell that to Gavin,” Ryan almost whispers, now looking towards Geoff and he can see how much that is hurting the man and how he much Gavin's approval means to him. “he definitely doesn't think that way.”

“He will, eventually.” Geoff assures him, confident in his words. The two of them could be incredibly thickheaded sometimes but he had seen the two fight and make up countless times before and knew better than to doubt them, no matter how difficult the situation seemed to be. “You just have to wait a while, you know how he is.”

Ryan gave him a noncommittal grunt in response, turning his attention back to Jeremy and once again the room was engulfed by silence. 

“Y’know,” Geoff started after he noticed Ryan stifling a yawn. “If Jack finds out you spend the whole night awake she would probably kill you .”

Ryan froze, his eyes changing from tired to suspicious as he turned towards Geoff who now had a smirk growing on his face. “You wouldn't…”

“Oh buddy, you know I would.” Geoff smiled and Ryan rolled his eyes but rose up from his chair and started to make his way out of the room. “You’ll thank me later.” He called after the man.

“Fuck off Geoff.” he called back with no real malice behind it and Geoff heard as he walk towards his own room. Only when he heard the door being closed did he turn back to Jeremy, smile dropping. He carefully scooped one of the lad’s way too pale hand into his own and held it tight and when he didn't hold his back Geoff allowed himself to cry for the first time in all those months.

\--

_At first there was only darkness._

_It was oppressive and suffocating, slowly filling Jeremy's lungs as it wrapped itself around his body with ever growing pressure yet he didn't feel any pain, he didn't feel anything, not even as the tendril like darkness entered his mind and took hold of his memories, claiming them for itself and pushing them further and further away from the man._

_He didn't know where he was and thinking or even concerning himself about it made his head throb in a mixture of pain and confusion so he gave up thinking altogether, succumbing slowly to the nothingness in his mind that spread to his fingertips, numbing the world around him and bringing him to a state of almost unconsciousness._

_And then the crying started._

_It wasn't loud, just a couple sniffles and muffled sobs that didn't seem to belong to only one person coming from somewhere far away but Jeremy could still hear it even if it was very subtle and for some reason it bothered him, awaking him from his trance as and putting the man in a constant state of worry. Was it okay? Was it hurt? Why did it sound so familiar? And why was it here?_

_Then just as quick as it came the voices started to fade and Jeremy panicked even more, he didn't want to be alone again and a part of him knew that if he allowed the voice to go away it would never return so he started to struggle against his bonds only to find that they weren't there anymore. He had been so spaced out so much he didn't realize that the throbbing in his head and the darkness in his lungs had vanished into thin air and now all he had were the voices that seemed to be further away now than ever._

_He didn't hesitate, running was hard and sometimes he felt the darkness grab at his heels and reel him backwards but now that his thoughts were free Jeremy knew he needed to get out of wherever he was and that the cries needed him so he kept running even as his feet started burn and even as the darkness seemed to increase in size._

_After so long in the dark, finding the light at the end of the tunnel brings more confusion than relief._

_Jeremy found himself on a tiny and empty bedroom, light green paint was peeling off the bare, lifeless walls and the sound of a distant highway filled the room thanks to a half open window that casted warm and welcoming light into the room and bathed him in comfort and familiarity. He glanced around him, taking in every single imperfection and quirk that he somehow knew would be there before his eyes landed on a small disheveled bed on the corner where five figures sat. They were familiar, their expressions were almost as homely as the room itself but entirely blank, he couldn't figure out why his heart skipped a beat upon seeing them so he just stared at them and tried to make himself remember of the memories he allowed the darkness to take from him._

_“You grew up here.” said the one with golden hair, he had a thick accent but there weren't any emotions in his voice and for some reason that felt wrong._

_“I did?” Jeremy asked, everything was so cloudy and his own voice felt far away and distorted.“Why can't I remember?”_

_“Because you are not supposed to” answered the one with a handle mustache and haunting blue eyes that seemed to follow his every move. “You are just supposed to decide.”_

_“Decide what?” He questioned again, nothing seemed to make sense anymore._

_“If you will be going home, of course” answered the one with wild curls and freckles, Jeremy wasn't sure why but he felt his stomach twist in guilt when he saw him._

_“I thought you said this was home.” Their images were starting to fade and Jeremy leaped forward to grab at them only to find himself stuck to the ground._

_“It was once,” said the one with fiery red hair, her voice was deep but not intimidating “But it's no longer that, you can try and make it one again but for that you will have to stay.”_

_Jeremy looked around the room, it wasn't much but the light was warm and inviting and for the first time since the darkness he felt at peace but still something wasn't entirely right, he turned back towards the figures in the bed and studied their neutral expressions one by one. He tried to move once again, this time managing to reach his hand towards them and smiling when each one of them extended their one, cupping his hand in their own._

_“No.” He answered simply, feeling fingers interlock with his own, it felt like the obvious answer as soon as it left his lips. “You told me to pick home right? So, I pick you. All of you.”_

_“You might regret this decision once you wake up.” Stated the one with a ponytail and icy eyes, he had an eyebrow raised but Jeremy shook his head._

_“I don't care” he responded, and that seemed to please them because suddenly he was engulfed in their warm embrace. For a moment the air laid perfectly still around them, Jeremy didn't dare move or make a sound as hands trailed up and down his arms and back, bringing life back to his bones and then, as one, they whispered in his ear._

_“Wake up” ___

__\--_ _

__Jeremy was awfully hot, that was the first thing he noticed as he started to blink himself awake, blankets and bandages wrapped around his body almost possessively and he could practically feel a mixture of drugs making its way through his system, numbing him from the pain he was supposed to be feeling and making his mind so slow that it took him a moment to remember what had happened. Ryan shot him, Ryan wanted him dead and possibly so did the rest of the crew because he abandoned them and hurt Michael. Michael! Was the lad ok? Did the crew find him before Randall's goons could drag him away? Was Randall alive? Why was he alive? His head hurt and he felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He tried to wipe them away only to find that one of his wrists was handcuffed to the bed frame, he wondered why they were there since he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of bed thanks to the painkillers and wounds covering his body._ _

__“Jeremy?”_ _

__Jeremy wiped his head around so fast it made his vision swarm, sitting next to his bed was Jack, her eyes were tired and in her hand she held a book Jeremy didn't recognize. She gave him a weak smile filled with concern which he could quite recreate. He tried to prop himself up a bit to meet her eyes but found he was to weak to do so._ _

__“Do you need some help there?” Jack asked and Jeremy nodded, giving the women a grateful smile as she put a hand on his lower back and carefully helped him up to a sitting position. “Alright buddy, easy does it now.”_ _

__“T-thanks” he said, voice ragged and broken from lack of use, Jacks hand was warm and inviting and he couldn't help but lean back into it. For a moment the air laid perfectly still around them and Jeremy allowed himself to pretend everything would be okay but then Jack smile dropped and all his worries came crashing back. “How is he?”_ _

__Jack let out a sigh, ignoring the way Jeremy avoided saying Michael's name. “He is alive, not much damage was made. Just a concussion and a couple bruises.”_ _

__“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice wobbly and wet. “I’m so fucking sorry.”_ _

__“Are you?” Asked someone from the doorway, Jeremy looked up to find Geoff staring down at him, arms crossed. He wore the same outfit from the first time he visited the penthouse except this time the clear outline of a gun was apparent in the band of his sweatpants but despite that his eyes were more curious than accusing._ _

__“Yes!” Jeremy cried, guilt climbing like bile up his throat and leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “Listen I hurt the crew so don't deserve your forgiveness, I'm not going to beg for my life because I don-”_ _

__“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Sputtered Jack, jumping to her feet and Jeremy couldn't help but flinch. The confusion on Jack's eyes quickly changed to concern, Geoff inched closer. “Jeremy we are not going to kill you, we just want to understand what the fuck is going on.”_ _

__“And then we make a decision together,” Geoff completed, he laid a hand on Jeremy's arm and the younger man had to fight the urge to struggle against it. It must have shown in his eyes because Geoff backed off immediately. “ As a crew.”_ _

__“Oh” Jeremy let's out and stares thoughtfully at his hands, too afraid to face anyone else in the room so they would see the tears forming in his eyes. His family wanted him, they cared about him and they were trying to understand, even after all he made them go through they still wanted Jeremy to be one of them. The thought made his heart leap and for a moment he let the warm and unfamiliar feeling of being welcomed somewhere fill him. And then there was the slowly rising fear, probably dulled by the drugs that carved through his insides and sinked in his stomach like lead making him almost sick. He looked up at Jack and Geoff who had similar concerned looks plastered on their face and said the words he should have said to them before he started this mess. “Then I’m sorry, but I can't stay here.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write and I'm sorry it's shit, I had no idea how to finish it off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay but hey, new year new goals to achive in fanfiction right?  
> Also I'd like to thank athenake for betaing this fic and just being an awesome friend in general

  

“Explain.” 

Geoff's voice was demanding and angry, making Jeremy flinch and shrink into himself to try and avoid the judging eyes of the Fakes. They had all piled into his room after his latest announcement, probably attracted by the confused and outraged yells from Jack and Geoff, and now they just stared at Jeremy. The tension in the air was almost palpable but he disregarded that in order to take in the faces of the family he thought he had lost and that he would lose once again.

Michael and Gavin were the closest to his bed. They shared a chair, legs tangled in a mess of limbs and hands intertwined in an white knuckle grasp desperate for any comfort it could find. Jack had explained to Jeremy as the two of them raced in that he had slept for four days straight while Michael was unconscious for only a few hours and had practically fought off any attempts the crew had of giving him medical care, only accepting to be bedridden when the crew assured him Jeremy was alive and being treated accordingly. Jack also confirmed that in the few times Gavin wasn't by Michaels side he was waiting for the wounded lad to wake up. Jeremy wasn't sure if he believed either of those things; he doesn’t understand why they would care about him after everything he'd done but he couldn't find a reason behind Jack lying to him. That and the two  _ did  _ look wrecked. Gavin's hair was flat against his forehead, messy like he hadn't been bothered to style it in days. He had been chewing on his lips and now they were chapped and broken. Michael's eyes were fixed on Jeremy's bandaged torso with something like guilty in his eyes. His hands fidgeted like they had a mind of their own.

Jack hung behind them, gripping the back of their chair like a lifeline. She watched over the room like a hawk, eyes following every little movement, as if she wanted to be sure everything that was happening was real, before landing on Jeremy. She gave him a sad little smile as if to encourage him to talk but Jeremey couldn’t muster the strength to return it. Geoff was next to her, arms crossed as he looked at Jeremy with a perfectly strained face that made his stomach turn. He had seen Geoff wear the same expression when dealing with crooks and rival crews. It hurt to see the look directed towards him but he knew he deserved it.

And stood at the doorway was Ryan- no,  _ Vagabond _ , wearing his signature rubber skull mask with its mocking smile and unwavering expression that sent chills down Jeremy’s spine. He looked almost disinterested, picking at his nails carelessly, but Jeremy could still feel his eyes boring holes into Jeremy's skull. He wondered for a brief second if the killer regretted not having shot Jeremy's head when he had the chance or if he had done it on purpose in order to make his suffering last longer.

He caught himself wishing he could see the Vagabond’s face one last time, that he could stare into the eyes of his Battle Buddy and hear him, or any of them, laugh again. He wished he had been braver, that he had kissed them all and tasted their lips against his own and felt their embrace against his body. He knew he didn’t deserve any of that, just like he didn’t deserve their forgiveness, and just like he never deserved  _ them _ .

“T-there is- I mean I…” His voice shook. He guessed his body did as well. Jeremy drew in a deep breath before speaking again, trying to regain whatever composure he had left. “It's a long story.”

“We have time,” Geoff said, and this time Jeremy could almost hear a bit of curiosity in his voice.

He sighed and ran his uncuffed hand through shallow hair. “I...Ok, do you guys remember what I told you about my past?” he asked. “Like, before I came to Los Santos and stuff.”

“You said you started doing crew work after your mum died, wasn't it?” piped in Gavin, still avoiding Jeremy's eyes. “You left after a job went wrong because you were afraid people would trace it back to you.”

Jeremy nodded and looked down at his lap in shame. “Yeah, well, that isn't… exactly true…”

Vagabond huffed humourless and Jeremy felt his cheeks burn. Jack was quick to shush him. He sucked in a few breaths, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

“My mom, well, she was an addict. I don't know if my dad left because of that or if she started doing drugs because he left but the point is that since I can remember it's only been the two of us. I loved her, and I knew she was trying and that she loved me as well but it was tough y'know? Her day jobs were barely enough to keep us afloat and her drug debt was always growing.”

“What does that have to do with you leaving?” Geoff questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm getting there ok?” Jeremy said, gripping at the covers in his bed. He had never talked about this before and he knew that if he stopped now he would never speak of it again. “Anyways, every once a month these  _ ‘collectors’ _ would show up on our door, looking for drug money. They’d threaten me, play tough, make a whole act out of breaking our shit, then they'd just grab some money and whatever was valuable and leave. It sucked but we got used to it, there was no pointing in fighting back.”

He remembered hiding in his room at his mother's request, mumbling songs he had listened to over the month so he could muffle the desperate cries and yells coming from the living room. He remembered painting his room with his mom almost four times a year and laughing as the two of them filled the room with color and wild patterns because his mom believed that no matter how much they ransacked the house they could never take the paint and the memories off the walls.

“Then, when I was fourteen, I decided I had had enough. I don't fucking remember what my exact plan was, hell, I don't even know if I had one but for some stupid reason I thought that maybe if I talked to their boss they'd leave us alone, so I hid in their car.” He looked up at the crew, meeting their horrified faces. “Yeah, I know, young Jeremy was a fucking moron. It took them like less than two minutes to find me. I still think it's a goddamn miracle they didn't shot me on sight.

“Back then Boston was ruled by this mob called Bloodline, they were old, had been in power since my mom was a kid. It's funny, back then I thought they were basically supervillains but when I think about it now I know they were better than some crews out there and they were definitely better than the crew that followed them. I don't remember their leader’s name anymore, especially because I never actually met him but that day I did meet the closest thing to it; his son, Randall.

“He was born into crime, bloodthirsty, reckless, didn't give a shit if his own men got hurt as long as he got his way. His father made him watch over the drug operations in town after he screwed up an arms deal to teach him responsibility or some shit like that. He hated it and so did the people who worked under his hand. That's why they took me to him instead of just killing me, I think, to see what he would do with a snotty brat in his hands.” Jeremy grimaced at the memory and subconsciously rubbed at his wrists, where the goons had grabbed onto and left bruises that didn't fade for days. “No one actually thought he would agree to wipe away my mother's debt but he did. With one condition, of course.”

“That you would work for him…” Jack whispered and Jeremy nodded, watching as her and Geoff's expressions changed to a mixture of horror and anger. “What did your mom say?”

“She didn't know,” he answered, shrugging. He hoped the others didn't notice the way his voice trembled. “She OD’ed two months after that happened, I didn't really have any other family so Randall took me in and let me live in an unused room in his headquarters. I was already in too deep to refuse.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Michael said, his brow furrowed. “But, here is the thing, I heard about Bloodline as a kid and I definitely remember my parents saying they were wiped off the map by another crew.”

“They were killed off,” Jeremy agreed and gave a nod to confirm his words. “Not by another crew though. Randall made sure he himself ripped his father's head clean off his shoulders when he took over.”

“…fuck,” Geoff huffed under his breath and ran his hand over his face. Jeremy almost laughed at that;  _ 'fuck’ _ was probably the best way to describe the mixture of emotions going on inside him when all of that happened. When he killed for the first time and played a part on putting the man who would haunt his nightmares in power of the only world he knew.

“It practically goes without saying that he stopped being nice to me after that, I couldn't leave the room he gave me unless I was assigned for a job or I had some sort of training and he'd constantly remind me I owed him my life, that he could throw me out on the streets or worse if I stepped out of line, that his crew was all I had. Then he'd make up some bullshit about how it was all for my own good and that I should be grateful. And the worst part was that I actually believed him.” Anger and disgust dripped from his own voice like poison, resurfacing memories he had repressed of fake promises Jeremy was too stupid to believe and ignored threats that to that day made him look over his shoulder in fear. “I was sixteen when he put me in the hospital for the first time, a broken nose and two fingers for not noticing one of the tellers on the bank we were hitting going for the panic alarm underneath her desk.”

Jeremy could see Geoff's clenched jaw out of the corner of his eyes, heard the soft gasp Gavin let out, and practically felt the Vagabond’s gaze switching from the young lad to his own feet. No one talked or tried to comfort him and for that he was grateful. He didn’t think he could handle their pity.

“I ran away after that, didn't even wait for my wounds to heal before taking off with nothing but the clothes on my back and running as far as my legs could take me. It was… weird. Suddenly it was like someone flipped a switch and reality came crashing down on me. I was alone, I was scared, I had nowhere to go, and I had no one to turn to, no one who cared about me for who I was. For a few days after that I just wandered around town, scrambling to find food or shelter or clothes. I learned how to pickpocket, figured a couple more crimes wouldn't make a difference at that point, and learned how to live like that. That is until one day this kid started following me around.

“He was about my age, tall, scrawny, good at talking himself out of shit, running from his past just like I was. We’d talk sometimes, he’d ask me where to find food or coffee or where to go for shelter then he'd disappear again for a few days before coming back with a new set of bruises. He was funny and one of the only people back then that didn't treat me like fucking trash, I started to go out of my way to meet him and to make sure he was alright, even saved his ass from a few angry shop clerks a couple of times, he introduced me to his best friend who welcomed me just like he did, and for a while that was all there was to life, y'know?” He knew at least half could relate to what he was saying; living in the streets was tough but sometimes it's better than the alternative. “Then one day he asked for my help in a small robbery he was planning on doing, nothing much just a small rundown convenience store downtown, his friend would be the getaway driver but he needed a muscle to help him when they were inside and that's where I came in.”

He doesn't tell the crew about their real identities. After all, this was Trevor’s and Matt’s stories as much as it was Jeremy's and it's not his place to reveal to the crew a past he knew all three of them had tried to forget. That didn’t stop him from reminiscing about the times it was just the three of them packed inside Matt's beat up car, singing off tune to the songs on the radio and scavenging for about anything they could find.

“Turns out the shop had a better security system than we expected. We only barely escaped the cops and almost didn't take any money with us. The police had pictures of us now, grainy and unfocused sure but we were still terrified someone would track us down and arrest us and I was even more scared that they'd throw me to the wolves but… they didn't. They didn't blame me at all for what happened and even let me stay in their car till the coast was clear. For the first time in years I was happy.

“Then one day I woke up to someone yanking on my arm and a bright light on my face, I tried to call out for help but t-they weren't there.” He could feel his breath catching in his throat and tears starting to swell in his eyes. Jeremy quietly blinked them away. “They'd left at some point during their night. I must have slept through it or something because they were just gone and so were their bags and the money we stole. I was alone again and this time I had no way to run.

“I was taken to the local police station by the guy who grabbed me, he dragged me there while I kicked and screamed, going on and on about how they were going to throw me into juvie for good and how if I ever got out I'd go straight to the foster system and how kids like me don't live through that.” He remembered the holding cell they put him in, too small and crowded and suffocating. The cold concrete floor and how the winter breeze made him shiver. “They held me in there for about three days, and just when I thought there was no hope, Randall showed up.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat, that name and  _ ‘hope’  _ should not be in the same sentence together. “He was all dressed up, fancy suit and hair slicked back, and for a moment I forgot about the beatings, I forgot that I was basically his prisoner, all I could think about was that I was all alone and suddenly he was there to save me.”

He didn’t tell them about how he begged Randall for his forgiveness but he could still feel his cheeks heating with the memory and the crews’ eyes on him.

Jack spoke up from his side and Jeremy forced himself to catch her eyes. “Your friends, they… they didn't  _ really _ leave you, did they?” Her eyes were as sad as her tone and if the situation was any different Jeremy would have laughed at how damn easy it was for her to read him. But he doesn't. instead he felt his jaw clench and his shoulders tense. Jack nodded as if his silence was a sufficient answer. “How long did it take you to find out?”

“Too long,” he answered, remembering the day he finally met Trevor and Matt again after Geoff hired him. Around that time he already knew better than to trust what Randall had told him during the years and a part of him always tried to come up with reasons why they had left him behind so long ago but he could never make himself truly believe them until that day. They had pulled him aside and explained what had happened that night from their eyes, how people dressed in black and grey had held them at gunpoint and dragged them out of the car before taking the two of them to a police station on the other side of town. Matt ended up being sent to juvie while Trevor got shipped back to his old abusive foster family. They thought he was killed, they said with awe lacing their voice and a relieved glint in their eyes, but they never stopped looking for him. “Way too fucking long.”

For a few seconds the room was filled with a heavy silence. Jeremy allowed himself to reminisce on the good memories he had made with Matt and Trevor. He wondered if he would be allowed to say goodbye to them before he had to leave again but he was pretty sure he didn’t deserve such kindness.

“It took me a few years to try and run away again, by then I was already 19 or something close to it, and knew I couldn't stay there any more. Randall was vicious; he wanted power like no one I ever met before and nothing or no one could stop him from getting what he wanted. If anyone in his crew slacked off or were anything less than perfect they were ‘excused’ out of the crew.” He watched as the others grimaced; they all knew what those words really meant. “After I got back to the crew I thought that was going to happen to me too, but obviously he didn’t kill me. Back then I thought it was just to prove a point y’know? A way to punish me further for taking off, which the fucker did do, but now… now I think he genuinely wants me to be in his crew and that's why he followed me here. I was the first moron to actually follow him and not his father, to look up at him with something that wasn’t fear, so it makes sense, right? That in his weird, demented, selfish way he cares about me.”

“Fuck that!” Michael almost screamed from his chair, receiving various nods and reassuring grunts from around the room. “This asshole abused you for most of your life, beat the living shit out of you for not being his perfect fucking soldier, and now you wanna crawl back to him 'cus he gives half a shit about you?!”

“Michael, please…” Jeremy pleaded despite not knowing exactly what he was asking for. More time? Mercy? Forgiveness?

“No, Jeremy! I thought they were threatening you! I was fucking stupid enough to believe that you actually cared about me enough to tell me the truth back then but apparently I was wrong and all you care about is some spoiled piece of sh-”

“He  _ is _ threatening you!” Jeremy snapped as the tears in his eyes finally spilled. The room fell silent immediately. “All of you.” They remained quiet as realization dawned on them. For a second, Jeremy was sure he could hear everyone's heart beating as one.

“We can take care of ourselves, Jeremy,” Geoff said. His voice should be booming in the quiet room but for some reason it barely sounded like a whisper in his ears.

“Yeah, like I'm gonna take that chance,” he scoffed, using his free hand to wipe at his tear stained cheeks. He noticed, out the corner of his eye, that the cuff had cut deep enough into his wrist to draw blood but not enough to make him feel anything other than regret and fear. “I ran away because I saw the monster that he was, I watched as he destroyed crews and broke criminals and innocents without a hint of remorse and I helped.” Venom clung to his tone, a sound as deadly as a loaded gun directed to his own head.  “You guys are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I'd rather fucking die than let anyone, especially that damn asshole, hurt any of you.”

He looked at them again, took in their faces like he did before he started talking. They looked older, ragged, like years had passed since he started his tale, but Jeremy reckons he probably didn’t look much better himself. “It’s okay, y‘know?” he lied. The looks on their faces told him it was the wrong thing to say but he couldn’t take it back, no matter how much their sad eyes made him miserable. “We all knew I was never going to be one of you.”

“What?” Jack asked, moving forwards to land a hand on his shoulder. Jeremy immediately melted under her touch. “Lil J, you are as much of a Fake as all of us.”

He scoffed at that and Jack’s hand moved away like it was burnt. He looked up to her, trying to get the warmth and comfort back, but was only met with wide eyes filled with shock and sadness. As he looked around, the same looks haunted him; the surprise, the grief - even Vagabond, with his emotionless plastic smile, had his head hung in something that resembled shame. Did they really think he belonged there? Did they really try so hard to make him fit in the blank spot they had open that they ignored they way he stuck out?

“It’s not your fault!” he assured them, because it really wasn’t. They couldn’t be blamed for the way his heart ached for them and their approval. He realised he might sound desperate but he’s way too far gone to care. “I mean, you tried and you did make me feel welcomed, but I’m not one of the originals, no one in this city will ever view me as anything more than the dumbass you guys took in because-”   
  
“Because what, Jeremy?!” Geoff interrupted him, taking a few steps closer. Judging by his tone, Jeremy expected to find anger behind his blue eyes, but instead they look at him pleadingly. “Because we liked you? Because we realized you would be a great addition to the crew? Because we wanted to see what the new guy could do? Or- or maybe, here’s a wild fucking thought, because we wanted a friend and you were everything we were looking for and more?” Jeremy felt his cheeks heating up but still Geoff went on. “This god forsaken city is filled with nothing but judgemental assholes who won’t lift a finger to try and fix everything that’s wrong, so I’d say that they lost their right to think less of you before you even set foot in here. You are a Fake! None of us give a fuck about what anyone else thinks.”

Jeremy couldn’t talk, a lump in his throat bigger than his fist and it kept even the sobs from getting free. He’s so lucky, so happy to have them by his side, to hear the kind words spilling from Geoff’s lips, but he’s also selfish. He wanted more, he wanted something else that made his heart flip and his stomach twist in itself. He wanted…

“There is something else, isn’t there?” Gavin asked. Silent tears made their way past his cheeks but he didn’t acknowledge them. Jeremy let his shoulders slump down even more; Gavin was always awfully good at reading him. “There’s something you aren’t telling us.” 

“I… it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he lied but Gavin’s brow was already furrowed in concern and Jeremy knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to those sad, green eyes for much longer. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

“It definitely sounds like a big deal,” Jack said with a raised eyebrow. “Lil J we can’t help you if you don’t tell us wha-”

“I FUCKING LIKE YOU GUYS OKAY!” He didn’t mean to shout it but he had been holding it for so long he felt like he would explode if he didn’t. He didn’t say love despite that being  _ exactly  _ how he felt because he didn’t need to feel more stupid and childish than he already did, he knew that the rejection from that would somehow hurt worse. “I like you guys way more than I should, and I don’t-”

In the end Michael’s lips shut him up. Soft unlike he predicted but just as possessive as he hoped. He tasted like how watching fireworks feels and he was already addicted to the way Michael’s teeth brushed against his lips when he pulled him closer and the feel of calloused hands against his scalp. When he leaned back, Jeremy had to stop his hand, that at some point made it’s to Michaels hips, from pulling him back to himself and claiming his lips again, but there was a big smile on the older man’s face and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“You are a fucking moron, Jeremy Dooley,” he giggled. Jeremy vaguely acknowledged that Jack facepalmed in the background but couldn’t get his eyes of Michael.

“Yeah…”

The room erupted with laughter and it was the most beautiful sound Jeremy had ever heard.

“We are never,” Michaels said, with enough confidence to fill the room and Jeremy had to stop the tears once again, “ _ ever _ , giving up on you.”

“We might bloody give up on Michael tho,” Gavin pouted but there was a smirk on his face. “Bastard said I was gonna get the first kiss.”

“YOU TWO FUCKERS WERE PLANNING THIS ALREADY?” Geoff sputtered, his face tinted red and Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as his own cheeks began heating up.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING ACT LIKE YOU WEREN’T EITHER!”

“YEAH BUT I’M YOUR GODDAMN BOSS, I’M ALLOWED TO.”

“Technically, Trevor is our boss.”

The room fell silent once again as Ryan spoke for the first time. Now he shifted from one foot to another awkwardly, the mask still covering his face, but not even the cheap skull could hide the vulnerable look in his eyes.

“Can you guys give me a minute alone with Jeremy?” he said. It took a second for anyone to budge but eventually one by one they left until it was just the two of them and Jack, who shot Ryan a menacing glare before leaving and closing the door behind her. Ryan sighed and moved to sit in the chair closest to him. For a few moments there was nothing but silence, Jeremy fidgeting with his hands and Ryan tugging on the hem of his mask but not quite taking it off. It's only when Jeremy thought maybe he was the one supposed to say something that Ryan started talking.

“I’m sorry.” It's all he said and Jeremy sighed in relief.

“I mean it's fine,” Jeremy responded, the bullet wound still hurt but it wasn't anything Steffie couldn't fix. “If I were you I’d have shot me too.”

“No it's not- I mean, I'm definitely sorry about that too but I…” Finally he took the mask off and Jeremy had to suppress a gasp; Ryan looked wrecked beyond belief. Big bags under his eyes, his lips chapped and bruised, and all the life in his eyes seemed to be gone. Jeremy wanted to hold him but he wasn’t sure he'd like that. “When you left, Gavin told us what you said to him and I thought- I was sure you weren't coming back, that that was it, y'know? I thought all you told us had just been a huge fucking lie and you were gone for good so I told them, I fucking told them and I'm so sorry we didn’t look for you. I thought that you had given up on us and that we should give up on you too. I was an idiot and now I can't help but think that maybe if they followed through with what I said, you just be  _ gone _ . You'd be somewhere we couldn't find you and you'd be in pain because I was a stubborn moron who only plans for the worst.” Ryan's eyes were watery and his voice strained. Jeremy wanted to say something, anything, but Ryan kept going. “We almost lost you twice, Jeremy, and in both times it would have been my fucking fault!”

“But you didn't,” Jeremy pointed out, and Ryan seemed like he was going to object so Jeremy kept going. “No, you listen to me, Haywood, you didn't lose me. Because this is a crew and we make decisions together. Now I might be an idiot who thought otherwise but in the end you did the same thing I tried to do. You tried to protect the people you love and I could never be mad at you for that.”

“But-”

“But nothing, Ryan, you did what you thought you had to do. In this job trusting people is tricky and things go wrong if you trust someone blindly. You were only preparing yourself for the worst.”

A lonely sob escaped Ryan's lips as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy carefully wiped the tears off the other man's cheeks. “It's okay, we are all okay.”

Ryan's kiss was different; it felt more desperate, more urgent. At first he was soft, but before they even noticed, they were clinging to each other as if they were the air that was missing from their lungs. They shared whispers between kisses, a mixture of  _ ‘I’m sorry’ _ and  _ ‘it's okay’ _ that were so tangled by the end of it that they had trouble knowing who said what. When they broke apart, Ryan had a different smile than Michael’s on his face, one that was hungry and desperate and  _ alive  _ in a way that should look dangerous but to Jeremy it's inviting. For a while they just stared at each other, too lost in their own minds and each other’s eyes to speak words that don't need to be said, but then there was a knock on the door and they both jumped.

“YOU TWO BETTER NOT BE MAKING OUT IN THERE!” Geoff screamed through the closed door and Jeremy laughed so hard his stomach hurt.

“Oops?”

“FUCK.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'll updated once a week?? Please be patient with me and give a shout if you see any grammar problems


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